Friday, February 24, 2006

Deviant isn't isothermal

I get just the most bizarre spam in the world, and lots and lots of it to boot. The title of today's post comes straight from the subject line of a spam email. I'm afraid I can't tell you what the spam is about, since I didn't click on the link (spyware being what it is and all), but I can tell you that deviant really isn't isothermal at all. Nor mesothermal. But that's another story.

I've been trying and trying (well, not that hard, but definitely at least one trying worth) to work on the Camilla piece. 2 1/2ish chapters done. Went from third person to 1st person, present tense, and now I think I need to really go to first person, past tense. But mostly I'm just not feeling it. Figures, since it's likely the most marketable of my current crop of ideas.

I think I'm going to work on Abigail. Her pigtails are twitching and she's got that look in her eye like I'd best be on about it, she's getting impatient, darn it. And the Miss Twitchell's are getting anxious too, it's really time to get this story on the road. And it is a great deal more fun. There'll be some gooky nasty monsters in this one and some delightfully precocious fairies (the Miss Twitchells not withstanding). Camilla's just got some teen angst she's got to deal with. I think she can wait just a bit. She needs to get her wardrobe straightened out first anyway; I'm not sure she wants to go out in public like she is.

Not to mention I need to do some more research before I work on that one. I'm not all that familiar with New York, having only been there once, and my latest contact with the City being solely through novels like the Gossip Girls (and if that is real life, then by god, I don't know what to do anyway).

No comments:

What is this, anyway?

This is my personal blog and very officially un-official and full of things that won't make sense to anyone else. Notes. Word counts. Somewhat atrocious poetry. Research. Reviews of things so that my sieve of a brain remembers them. Things I write that'll never see the light of day under my real name because my agent would kill me. Well, maim maybe. I don't think anyone actually wants to kill me. I'm just a writer, lost in the wilderness.